I Kissed a Boy
by Miss Sher-Locked Stylinson
Summary: One night, John confessed his undecided discussion that he might be gay, he asks Sherlock for his help to be absolutely sure. But, John gets more then he needed to be certain. JohnLock! Please enjoy. A TWO-SHOT IS CURRENTLY IN PRODUCTION


**Disclaimer - I dont own Sherlock, John does ;)**

**Rate - M**

**Summary - ONE-SHOT: ****One night, John confessed his undecided discussion that he might be gay, he asks Sherlock for his help to be absolutely sure. But, John gets more then he needed to be certain.**  


**Warning - This is JohnLock: Sherlock x John, dont like? Dont read!**

**AN: Hello again! XD Im here again with another JohnLock one-shot! I know the title sounds stupid and cliche but I like it, and its by Cobra Starship. :) And it totally goes with the story. Just another unnecessary update, my other Sherlocks stories (not one-shots) are being worked on, especially 'Act Upon It!' (if you havent read it I suggest you do, if interested.)  
**

"What do you mean you _might_ be gay?"

John glanced sideways at his dimly lit friend – they still had only turned one light back on after watching late night telly and had been, surprisingly, chatting in the dark. "It appears to be certain, but I'm not sure how to make sure. That's why I'm asking _you._" For John, even he wasn't sure if he should have asked an asexual sociopath.

"I could show you." Sherlock offered – his voice dropping softly. John glanced up in surprise to find his friend examining him with a wicked sparkle in his grey eyes.

John snorted, insultingly. "How could you ever? Your haven't had _any_ experience."

"Doesn't mean I haven't studying it thoroughly, mind you." Sherlock had leaned over and was an inch from Johns reddening face.

"You're still a _virgin_-" John stopped there. He'd been caught with his mouth open, and now Sherlock had stuck his tongue into his mouth.

For a moment, all John could do was stare straight into Sherlock intent eyes, and when felt the intrusive tongue swirl in his mouth – in and about, he made a startled noise that was half muffled by the awkward kiss.

John remained frozen, stunned as Sherlock's slid his tongue in deep, and then drew it out…slowly. John shivered a little as it slipped past his lips. Gray eyes sparkled with amusement as Sherlock's lips parted with a slight, unexpected smile. Before John could comment, two hands had lifted to frame his face, thumbs slowly petting down his eyelids, encouraging them to shut calmly.

"Take it easy, now," Sherlock murmured his breath warm on John's lips. Then, with his eyes shut and his hearts starting to pound, John felt bony hands slip behind his ribs. Sherlock pulled him around with another whisper. "and get comfortable." Then he was laid against the arm of the couch, skin prickling as he sensed every little shift of the detective becoming adjusted. John guessed Sherlock would now bridged over him on the couch.

He had time for one long, ragged inhale, wondering what would occur, because '_bloody hell'_ and then the most softest moist touch met his lips. John caught his breath, unable to believe that Sherlock's lips could be satin smooth and delicate. The tiny movements, the barley perceptible sensations as Sherlock's pressed a little closer, only slip away again, almost breaking contact. John didn't realize he was already pushing himself well off of the arm rest. It made his face go red – but it didn't make him stop.

John heard a momentary grunt. Then he felt that slick, warm tongue glide between his lips, tracing his inner lip. Sherlock added a firmer caress, more pressure, a lean tilt…then his tongue was sliding in deep once again, but completely different from earlier. That had been too surprising to be enjoyable.

Sherlock tongue smoothed over his own and the stroking motion made John instantly respond, again pushing back, meeting the extraordinary advanced and following the retreats. Fingers brushed over his face with deceptive lightness as Sherlock's mouth gradually developed a slow, pulsing rhythm, moving in and out, in and out while his lips pressed hard and then soft.

It was similar to the form of sex. Without the sexual contact of the privates. As if being inside someone, thrusting with a sensual kind of laziness that slowly built toward climax. He was pushing, pushing – a press lips and an invasive like forcing thoughts of sex into Johns mind – skin and sweat and being combined and being satisfied. Sherlock's kiss made him imagine it and made him believe there would be nothing else like it in the world.

And then Sherlock pushed _harder_, pinning the army doctor to the couch and his tongue explored Johns mouth _faster_, and John couldn't move because the whole solid front of Sherlock's body was on top of him, but he wanted to move, his hips were twisting with intense throbbing heat in his manhood and he didn't know since but gosh he was hard. And he squirmed with torture of not being able to do anything about it but just keep kissing, and his arms tensed and sometimes grasped at Sherlock, pushed, and clawed a little when his pants squeezed his erection, '_oh fuck it was too much!_'

Skin damp with sweat, he'd forgotten why they were doing this; but he didn't care. John wanted _more_, more so he could come, and Sherlock kept invading him with his tongue and sucking noises, smacking a little whenever he separated their mouths for a brief moment. Only to return with more fast, wet desire and another kiss.

The searing heat pulled back a bit. Sherlock slowed, withdrew and John moaned and clung to him to proceed.

Pulling Johns arms off his neck, Sherlock broke free. He panted, red faced and damp with sweat, just like John. "Not tonight. I think I've proved my point here," and then John couldn't bite back his low cry or keep his hips from thrusting up off the couch as Sherlock cupped his erect manhood in his jeans and rubbed a long, agonizingly slow press upon it. "Of course, just the way this is going, I'm not going to have it in me to stop anymore." He pleasurably hissed.

Dazed, John mumbled through a slurred; kiss confused tongue, his eyes half lidded. "So don't stop, I never permitted you to _stop_."

Sherlock murmured silently. "Yeah." Then he leaned down and John's whole body arched up, but all he got was a wet kiss on the forehead. "Return to your right minded mind palace and tell me that, and next time we _won't_ stop. Promise." It was incredible how John actually believed him, why wouldn't he? Because Sherlock has _never_ given a 'promise'.

Groaning in misery and protest – because words weren't handy to his sex fogged brain just at this moment – John tried to pull Sherlock back down on top of him and for a moment, sealing their mouths together again and for a short second, John thought he was going to continue. But, while he was distracted by the new, sensual invasion, Sherlock got himself free of Johns arms, and this time when he pulled back, John had no way to hang on to him.

Sherlock didn't even linger. Didn't stay on the couch or even in the room. He picked up his stuff and headed for his bedroom, only pausing once at the second step of the stairs. "John, are you gay or not?"

Lying on the couch in a mixture of hazy pleasure and sexually frustrated agony, John stared at the dirty, cracked ceiling for a beat before turning narrow eyes at Sherlock. "I suppose, I _might_ be."

A laugh, low and firm. "Brilliant. Figures." Sherlock vanished upstairs. "No need to be bothered, John, well get that settled out perfectly soon."

John grunted back at him annoyingly. He had other things to take care of before he could even _think_ again.

**So? What do ya think? Im actually really proud of this / Please review (and if you see ANY mistakes review that too), because I have more JohnLock on the way! ;D (and I need the encouragement, thank you! ^^)**


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